


A Study in Falling In Love Instantly

by queerlyobscure (softestpunk)



Category: Welcome to Night Vale
Genre: Fluff, Insecurity, M/M, POV Carlos (Welcome to Night Vale)
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-09-13
Updated: 2013-09-13
Packaged: 2017-12-26 11:31:44
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,342
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/965452
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/softestpunk/pseuds/queerlyobscure
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Written for <a href="http://nightvalecommunitykink.dreamwidth.org/822.html?thread=414006#cmt414006">the prompt</a>:</p>
<p> </p>
<p>  <i>tl;dr Carlos thinks Cecil's messing with him when he says he's perfect because no one's ever shown interest in him before, and if they have, it was just to mock him. Insecure!Carlos, angry!Carlos, and eventually reciprocatingCecil'sfeelings!Carlos.</i></p>
<p> </p>
<p>Does what it says on the tin.</p>
            </blockquote>





	A Study in Falling In Love Instantly

**Author's Note:**

> All credit for this idea goes to the original prompter! Physical description left intentionally sparse so you can play fill-in-your-own-headcanon. Fun for the whole family!

_"... and everything about him was perfect, and I fell in love instantly."_  
  
Carlos paused, stared at the radio, blinked a few times, and decided that he'd definitely misheard the announcer. He'd been checking the results of some tests he'd run earlier in the day, so it was completely possible that his mind had wandered, and that was a much better explanation than a radio announcer he was sure he hadn't actually met yet claiming to be in love with him.   
  
If for no other reason than that he was just not the kind of person people fell in love with.  
  
"Is the recording equipment for the radio broadcasts set up yet?" Carlos asked no one in particular, expecting that some assistant or other would still be around. No one in particular answered, but there was a general agreement among the people present in the lab that they had, in fact, set up the recording equipment. Carlos headed over to the recording station and saved the last ten minutes of recording to his mp3 player, curious about what the announcer - Cecil, maybe? - had actually said.  
  
Once he'd gone to curl up in the cot he'd set up for himself in one of the back rooms of the building they were renting to study Night Vale from - and he really needed to move 'get an actual bed' further up his to-do list - Carlos took out the player and flipped through the contents until he came to the recording he'd saved.  
  
 _"He grinned, and everything about him was perfect..."_  Carlos paused the recording and brought it back a few seconds.  _"... everything about him was perfect, and I fell in love instantly."_  
  
Well, that ruled out mishearing. Carlos frowned, removed his glasses and flicked his light off, resting his hands on his stomach as he stared up into the dark and flicked over to his sleep playlist. He hadn't necessarily expected a warm reception - the townspeople were bound to be suspicious at first, uncomfortable with being studied so openly - but he also hadn't expected to be mocked on the radio.  
  
Tucking a lock of so-called 'perfect' hair behind his ear - and he knew for a fact that his hair was not perfect, since he had to keep forcing it to stay out of his face and was seriously considering a headband - Carlos sighed and turned onto his side to curl up. As fascinating as Night Vale was from a scientific viewpoint, the surroundings were unfamiliar, and he felt a million miles and a lifetime away from home.   
  
It would be nice to feel like one of the people who seemed to have a lot of power to influence other people wasn't set on making fun of him, was all. Not that he wasn't used to it, just that it might be nice for once to be recognised for the good he was trying to do instead of his awkwardness and - of all things - unruly hair. Perhaps he'd be best off getting it cut, considering the heat of the desert.  
  


\- - -

Not more than four hours after getting it cut, Carlos sat with his mouth hanging open in shock, listening to the report about his hair on the radio. What had he done to the guy on the other end that warranted making such a big deal about a simple haircut? He'd thought it'd looked fine when he'd walked out of the barbers, but apparently he'd only managed to make it worse as far as the voice of Night Vale was concerned.

Trying to convince himself that the stinging at the corners of his eyes wasn't tears, Carlos turned the dial on the radio to silence it, not ready to hear anything more about it for the day. He bit down on his lip and concentrated on his notes, ignoring the sick-feeling knot in his stomach at not knowing why he was on the receiving end of Cecil's ire or what he could do to fix it. 

He was obliged to spend at least another 11 months here, more if his research turned up things that got him another grant, and he'd worked so hard for it that he couldn't just leave in the middle - especially not with the risk that once it was known he walked away from this project, he might not ever get funding for another one. Right now, though, he wanted more than anything to get into his car and drive until Night Vale was little more than lights in the rear-view mirror.

With effort, he swept the feeling aside and got on with his work, resolving to avoid the community radio station and the odd announcer for the time being. 

Soon enough, the strange things he'd come to Night Vale to investigate started picking up pace again, and he was suddenly swamped with work and a great deal more frantic running around and trying to warn people of imminent disaster than he'd ever expected. Only, none of the disasters he predicted ever came to pass, for reasons he couldn't quite figure out, and he was beginning to wonder if maybe he wasn't any good at science, either.

One of his assistants informed him, after yet another non-occurring disaster, that the radio announcer had been looking for him with questions about The Moon. He thought, wryly, that at least  _someone_  - an unlikely someone, at that - still had some faith in him.

It wasn't until the same assistant remembered to give him the pack of lavender chewing gum that Cecil had left for him when he'd come down that he began to wonder if, just maybe, he was getting this all wrong. Because either Cecil was in some way telepathic - which, to be fair, was starting to seem likely in a place like Night Vale - or he'd gone to a lot of trouble to find out what brand of gum Carlos liked. It wasn't exactly a common favourite, so it would be an astronomically lucky guess.

While he was tempted to view it as a slight against him again, there was something about the gesture that prevented him from reading it as cruel. Just this once.

Cautiously, Carlos turned the radio back on to the community station to listen to what Cecil had to say for himself today.

\- - -

After a few weeks of getting on with work, and - more importantly, for the moment - letting himself believe that Cecil's brief mentions and over-the-top praise of him were sincere, Carlos found himself in the middle of a puzzle.

It wasn't, exactly, that he  _needed_  help from the community. In fact, he knew that even if someone here was willing to cooperate, their information, or manner, or physical existence made their help less useful than it might have been.

But one of his assistants had suggested that the way to reach a lot of people quickly would be through the nightly radio show, and, well. Carlos hadn't really had the opportunity to actually  _speak_  to Cecil yet, and his curiosity - purely scientific, of course - was starting to get the better of him. 

Before he really knew what he was doing, he'd pulled on his coat and climbed into his car to head for the radio station. It was only the afternoon, but he assumed that radio presenting required some prep work beforehand, and so Cecil would probably already be there. Hopefully.

He pulled up outside the tower and walked into the smallish office below, where an intern directed him to a desk, behind which was a man in thick-rimmed glasses doing something with his phone, tongue held between his teeth in concentration. Cecil obviously didn't realise anyone had joined him at first, because it was several moments before he looked up at Carlos. When he did, though, his whole face changed, brightening into the broad smile of a little boy who'd just woken up on Christmas morning, and for the first time since Cecil had said it months ago, Carlos understood the concept of falling in love instantly.

Or, rather, he understood that his brain was making several leaps at once about Cecil's visible characteristics and what they told him about his suitability as a mate from social and genetic standpoints. The effect, though, was very much one of love at first sight.

Obviously, that meant Carlos no longer had full control over his tongue or vocal cords. 

"Hello, Carlos," Cecil spoke up, face still lit up with pleasure. His voice was slightly uneven and his fingers clumsy as he shoved his phone back in his pocket. "What can I do for you?" He recovered coolly.

"Umm," Carlos replied intelligently, pausing for a moment to gather his thoughts. "I... there are - were - lights. In the sky. Coming from Radon Canyon?" He turned it into a question to give himself time to think while Cecil replied.

"If you say so," Cecil enthused. "What do they mean?"

Carlos took a deep breath. Science. He could do science. "We're not sure." He cleared his throat. "We're hoping you can help us find some witnesses?"

"You want me to ask on the show?" Cecil sounded outright thrilled by the prospect. Carlos nodded, still stunned by how attractive he found the other man. He wasn't sure he'd felt like this since he was a teenager.

"I'd love to help!" Cecil beamed at him. "Would you like to do an interview so you can tell everyone what you want to see?"

"Uh, no," Carlos refused as quickly as he possibly could without sounding unacceptably rude. "It's just... there's not really time. I have to get back to the lab. We're not sure what this is and it could be dangerous."

"You seem scared." Cecil looked at him closely.

"I am," Carlos agreed, glad that Cecil understood his fear.

"Scared because of the lights?" Cecil asked sympathetically.

Carlos tried to answer honestly - that he was actually afraid of the interview - but he didn't quite have the heart. "Umm, yes, exactly. Scared for the community. Dangerous lights." He added.

For once, he was fairly certain that there was actually no impending doom hovering over Night Vale. But the idea seemed to make Cecil happy, so he went along with it. It wasn't like anyone was paying attention to what he said, anyway.

Well, anyone except Cecil. 

"I'll let everyone know." He nodded seriously. "Thank you for bringing it to my attention. I want you to know that I'm always happy to help out." Cecil looked Carlos up and down, and his meaning couldn't have been clearer. Carlos blushed, coughed, and started backing away from the desk, flustered.

"Umm, thank you, Cecil," he murmured. "I'll be listening later." Carlos wasn't sure why he'd felt the need to say that, but it made Cecil light up again, and he wanted to keep making him do that.

\- - -

Carlos' jaw dropped when he walked into the section of the lab he'd claimed for himself to find Cecil, sitting on his desk with his legs crossed, leaning back on his hands and smiling brightly at him.  
  
"Do you know why we don't feel earthquakes in Night Vale?" He asked, uncrossing his legs and sitting with his knees much too far apart for Carlos' thinking capacity at the moment. It was obviously a genuine inquiry, but there was no note of worry in Cecil's voice. Just casual curiosity.  
  
"I, uh, umm." Carlos forced himself not to so much as glance at Cecil's crotch, though the way he was sitting drew an awful lot of attention to it. "I, well, it's... the thing with the earthquake... it's just... we don't... know." He frowned to himself. He actually had no idea why he could record massive seismic activity but not feel even the slightest rumble, and it was just one more point of concern about this strange little town that he wasn't sure about his feelings on.  
  
"You don't?" Cecil whined. It was definitely a whine, like a puppy who was sure you had a treat in your pocket and had been disappointed when you turned them out. Carlos felt awful for not having an answer. He sighed and shook his head.  
  
"We don't. I'm sorry." He grabbed for his notes, which were much too close to Cecil for comfort, and brushed up against the other man as he pulled away to rifle through them, hoping to find an answer he could give. Before he completely focused on the notes, though, he didn't miss the delighted little sound Cecil made as their shoulders touched.  
  
There was nothing new in the brief two-paragraph note that'd been left for him by some assistant or other, and so Carlos zoned back in to the world around him just in time to see Cecil looking at him as though he'd just asked a question. Heavy panic filled his stomach as he realised he had no idea what he'd been asked and no way of even guessing, because this was Night Vale and in his experience it could literally be anything.  
  
"I, umm." Carlos rubbed the back of his neck. "I have more notes and readings and things to go through. I'll find out for you." He offered.  
  
"Okay." Cecil nodded and got up from his desk, giving him another disappointed puppy look. Carlos swallowed thickly as he sat down at his desk again, uncomfortable that he'd missed whatever Cecil had said to him. He hoped it wasn't important.  
  
He looked up half an hour later, panic subsiding, to see a note with the the word 'Cecil' and a string of numbers written on it in what appeared to be either blood or ketchup. It took a second longer for Carlos to realise that Cecil had left him his phone number.  
  
With a flutter of anticipation, he entered the number in his mobile phone and quickly closed the address book, blushing furiously as he tried to go back to concentrating on his work. In general, people didn't hand over their phone number to him completely unprovoked. This whole having someone find you attractive thing was almost as new and strange as Night Vale itself.  
  


\- - -

It had taken Carlos over two months to come up with a reasonable excuse to make use of the phone number Cecil had left him. He still wasn't exactly sure what the odd radio host saw in him, but he couldn't deny that it was exciting and every time he heard his name mentioned, even briefly, in the nightly broadcasts, he felt incredibly special.

Fingers shaking a little as he called Cecil's number, Carlos took a few deep breaths while the phone rang and focused on what he wanted to say. Science, he could do, and if it gave him the chance to maybe, sort of, let Cecil know that he'd been thinking about him, well, that was a step in the right direction.

Once Cecil answered the phone, Carlos' mouth worked more or less without instruction from his brain. He was barely aware of what he was saying, rambling on about how time seemed to have slowed down in Night Vale by a significant amount and about needing more data to confirm it and could Cecil maybe ask his audience for help.

It took him ten minutes to realise once he hung up that he'd accidentally turned down the chance at a nice, informal date with the other man. He cursed his nervousness and resigned himself, briefly, to dying alone because he was awkward around people he found attractive, but then went back to work to take his mind off it.

By Monday morning he'd almost completely forgotten about the phone call - or rather, he'd convinced himself that he'd forgotten about it while his brain tortured him with suggestions about what he  _could_  have said - until he heard Cecil mention it on the radio.

Carlos squirmed as Cecil recounted his version of events, chuckling when he told the audience how embarrassing it was that he'd only had 'neat' to say in response to what should have been a startling revelation. At the time, it had seemed more cute than stupid, and Carlos knew Cecil was a smart man. Carlos rolled his eyes at Cecil's 'very into science' line, but smiled to himself at the over-the-top way he was happy to express that he was interested in him. 

Looking back, it was easy to see why it'd sounded like a joke. He'd never been the kind of person that girls - or boys - passed notes about in class, or gossiped with their friends about, or, later, made their interest in him obvious. Whenever someone _had_ been interested it had almost felt like a guilty pleasure on their part, a kink for awkward virgins or quiet scientists with thick-rimmed glasses or their thesis supervisor. Cecil seemed to just genuinely like him. The novelty of the situation was almost as enjoyable as the feeling of being wanted completely honestly.

Now it was just a matter of finding some sensible way of making his returned interest known.

And figuring out why the whole of Night Vale was losing time compared to the rest of the world, but that seemed like a less pressing issue right now.

\- - -

It had been one year - to the day - since Carlos had set foot in Night Vale. Since then he'd gotten used to strange objects in the sky, being under siege by various kinds of phenomena that could only be described as supernatural, as much as he'd rather have a scientifically sound explanation for them, and most of all - and for some reason, this had been the hardest thing to adjust to - the strange radio host who sung his praises on air and made him slightly weak at the knees in person.

Today had been no different from any other in that a civilisation of tiny people had attacked him in the bowling alley, another resident had died a bizarre death, and now he was listening to Cecil's nightly broadcast about the situation. 

Tonight, though, everything was going to go a little differently. Figuring he'd thoroughly earned the comfort of getting to see Cecil, and the reward of, maybe, finally getting to _do_  something about the two of them, Carlos took out his phone and texted him to come down to the parking lot. His stomach flipped over as he pressed 'send', but he swallowed around the nervous lump in his throat and waited.

Cecil arrived almost immediately, still talking into the headset he wore when he was outside of his studio. Carlos was still not entirely sure  _how_  Cecil travelled from one place to another, but he was certain it wasn't by car. Given the speed of his arrival, he was fairly certain it wasn't by any known method, but when it came to Cecil, a little mystery was oddly comforting.

Carlos smiled up at the other man from the trunk of his car, shifted over a few inches to give him room to sit down, and let his strange, inexplicable fondness for Night Vale - and one of its residents in particular - take over. He barely had to think about what he was saying, and as he spoke, Cecil's expression softened, and Carlos knew he was saying all the right things. He held his hand out to Cecil, and Cecil accepted eagerly, moving to sit beside him on the trunk of the car.

As the other man kept talking to his listeners - into a headset not attached to any broadcasting equipment that Carlos was aware of - Carlos sat, watched the sun disappear over the horizon, and then placed a hand lightly on Cecil's knee. He glanced at him to see a blush spreading high on his cheeks, making his ears go pink in the failing light. They shared a brief smile, and Carlos knew that they both understood what he was trying to say.

With Cecil's head resting lightly on his shoulder, Carlos looked back on the year that had been and smiled to himself. Constant threat of disaster aside, Night Vale had turned out to be a nice place to live indeed.


End file.
